


A Chaotic Cataloguing

by hnathe (vesuviusPrivateer)



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: 15 Days of FatT 2018, COUNTER/Weight finale spoilers, F/F, Fifteen Days of FatT 2018, Twilight Mirage Spoilers, Winter in Hieron Spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-14
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-18 08:35:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13678110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vesuviusPrivateer/pseuds/hnathe
Summary: A drabble collection for Fifteen Days of Friends at the Table, 2018.Day 1: Dance (Jacqui Green / Aria Joie)Day 2: Sleep (Hella Varal / Adaire Ducarte)Day 3: Metamorphosis (Signet / Belgard)Day 4: Vacation (Hella Varal / Adaire Ducarte)





	1. Day One: Dance

**Author's Note:**

> I promise I'm working on actual full length Femslash February stuff too, which is partially why I'm only doing drabbles for this event. I'm at least going to try to keep this skewed toward F/F unless I just can't finagle a ship into a prompt but. . . I'm pretty good at finagling. Anyway, sorry the first entry is so short. I'm gonna try to do some longer ones too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Spoilers for Counter/Weight finale)  
> Aria Joie / Jacqui Green

Aria didnt like to dance much, these days. Between rebuilding efforts and the piles of paperwork and regular work that went into getting the Green-Joie family finally settled and secure, she didn't have the energy to do more than bop along to her favorite songs while she washed dishes with Jacqui. As for formal occasions, well--as she ceded more authority in the vanguard to others, she had fewer to worry about, but a Hero could only get out of so many public appearances. 

Still, she could usually find an excuse to leave before the music started up. A message from Jacqui, claiming, true or not, that one of the kids had a cold. An important meeting in the morning that she had to be rested up for. Or if she'd managed to wrangle Jacqui into coming with her, well, the babysitter could only stay for so long.

Jacqui didn't care much for formal dancing, herself. Neither of them did anymore.

Spinning around the dance floor meant remembering Cass, the last time they had smiled at Aria. It meant remembering Jill, letting Jacqui go at the end of the night and never having her in reach again. Remembering, of all people, Lazer Ted, at the side of a Mako that smiled with his whole face and could not be pinned down only because of an unstoppable spring of energy, not an unbearable weight of obligation.

Life moved on, and it wasn't all bad. Aria knew she would end each day in the arms of a wife who loved her, and wake up to the grinning faces of her beautiful children--and she knew she was living and working and loving in a world that was better, getting better, could be made better, and she was a part of that. All she could have ever asked for.  
And sometimes, only sometimes, Jacqui would put on a song about the beginning of June, and explosions. And she would take Aria in her arms, and Aria would rest her head on her chest, and they would sway together in their little bedroom, kids asleep for the night, and remember an endless expanse of stars in the weeks before a storm.


	2. Day Two: Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Late Game Winter in Hieron spoilers)
> 
> Hella Varal / Adaire Ducarte

Adaire woke not to a sound, but a feeling. A feeling that carried her, night-gown clad and blanket around her shoulders, out to Samol's back yard. There was a sound there, simple and familiar: Hella's blade, whistling through the air and accompanied by soft grunts as her arms tensed and stretched with the effort of her swings.

  
"Hella, it's the middle of the night. What are you doing-" Adaire took note of the armor still resting heavily on Hella's shoulders, and barely visible beneath it the shirt she had worn to breakfast this morning, "-still up?"

  
Hella paused her swinging only long enough to change her position, and in that short silence, answer, "Can't sleep."

  
Adaire took a cursory glance at the night sky- or what was probably the night sky?- and, satisfied that she could tell the time no better than she could earlier in the day, said, "It's pretty late. Are you not tired?"

  
Hella laughed, but it didn't brighten her eyes, or do anything to hide the dark circles beneath them. Adaire's fingers twitched at her sides, but she did not cross her arms. Yet.

  
"Bed not comfortable?"

  
"Bed's _fine_ ," said Hella, changing position again to practice her thrusts. As Adaire's eyes adjusted she could just start to make out the sweat beaded on Hella's forehead, and how it plastered wet tendrils of deep, dark red to her face. It wasn't hot out, and Adaire was familiar enough with Hella's routine to know she wasn't even halfway through it: she couldn't have worked up that much sweat in that short a time. Not with this level of exercise--she was _Hella_.

  
"Nightmare?" Adaire ventured. Hella thrust her sword forward, in a motion that must have been as familiar as breathing, and her jaw tensed, eyes narrowing at an invisible enemy on the other end of her blade. The tip of the blade shook for a _second_ before Hella changed position again, moving into upward thrusts. One, two, three, four, five. . . Adaire did cross her arms this time.

  
"I can't help you if you don't tell me what's wrong, Hella."

  
Hella laughed again, just as bitter as before.

  
" _You_ want to help _me?_ I'm _honored_."

  
"What--of course I do, we're-" Adaire stumbled, "friends."

  
"Huh."

  
Realization struck her like a falling star.

  
"Is this about what I said in the bar? Hella-"

  
Hella sheathed her blade, but her hand remained tightly around the hilt. She looked sidelong at Adaire.

  
"Are you going to tell me you didn't _mean it?"_

  
Adaire pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. She wanted to lie, and she wanted to look anywhere but Hella, but she couldn't get away with both at the same time. Her eyes found a sliver of moon as it slowly transformed into a half moon.

  
" . . . No. I meant that."

  
"Then why do you _care?_ "

  
"I never said I didn't care about you!" Adaire snapped, "There's a difference between that and- and a-"

  
Here eyes moved from the shifting moon to Hella's face, clearer now in the brighter light. Her eyes weren't just tired, they were swollen. Her own expression must have shifted because Hella turned away, swiping at those same eyes with her free hand.

  
"If we don't have a 'True Connection' it's not because _I_ haven't tried," Hella spat, "Turnabout's fair play, right?"

  
"I'm not having this argument with you right now."

  
"Good, go back to bed."

  
"Not without y-"

  
Adaire slapped a hand over her suddenly clumsy mouth, but the damage was done. Hella turned slowly back toward her, raising one eyebrow.

  
"You wanna try that again?"

  
Hella's shoulders were tense, her eyes exhausted and swollen, her jaw clenched, and her hand wrapped white-knuckle tight around the hilt of her blade. Adaire thought about it, and lowered her hand, folding it with the other in front of her.

  
"Actually, no," she said, and her voice only shook a little. "If you can't sleep you should- you should stay with me tonight."

  
"Adaire-"

  
"You don't have to come back to my room, but I'm not leaving until you come back inside."

  
Hella's grip on her sword loosened, and she closed the distance between them until Adaire had to crane her head up to meet her eyes. Dark, they were, not a pinprick of moonlight piercing their depths, and Adaire felt her skin prickle under that gaze. Hella tilted her head to one side and, without a sign of a smirk or goofy grin, asked, "Just sleep?"

  
Adaire's face heated. She became firmly aware that she was in only her nightclothes.

  
"Just sleep." She said, as calmly and firmly as she could, banishing a sudden rush of sights and sounds from her mind.

  
Hella gave a one shouldered shrug, and gestured at the door. "Lead the way."

  
Adaire nodded, turning toward the door. Probably best to take her eyes off Hella for a few minutes after that anyway. The boards of the porch creaked under their feet, but the door was mercifully silent. As was Hella, until they reached Adaire's door, and she placed a callused hand on her shoulder. Adaire turned her head back to look at her again, but in the darkness of the hall her expression could not be read.

  
"Thanks," she said, and when nothing else followed Adaire turned back to the door and turned the knob. It took a few seconds more for Hella's hand to slip from her shoulder, and Adaire prayed to- to someone that Hella didn't feel the shudder that ran through her.

  
"Don't worry about it. C'mon, let's get some sleep."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, I promised today's would be longer! I have a lot of feelings about "True Connection". Mainly Helladaire feelings.


	3. Day Three: Metamorphosis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Spoilers for Godspeed, Glory and Post-Holiday Special.)  
> Belgard / Signet

Signet liked her new job, well enough. She was doing good, making good, in this new and treacherous world, which was her duty and aspiration both. Some of her new coworkers had . . . large personalities, yes, but she would get accustomed to their quirks as she had Fourteen and Tender. As she had many, many people in her long life.

  
If she had one regret it was that her job frequently took her to places that Belgard could not follow. She was used to long separations, yes--but now with Belgard fully awake and alive after so many hundred years, their time together was ever more precious. To her, and to Belgard as well. After all, without Thyrsus . . . Well, Belgard got lonely, as much as a God can be lonely.

  
Where Signet found comfort in an intimate touch, Belgard sought solace in the intimacy of presence.

  
Where Her outside had shifted--the protective nursery of Her pupal shields unfurling like petals into glorious fragmented wings, revealing the sleek and elegant silhouette that had slumbered within--the space inside of Belgard remained familiar and welcoming. And the space Inside of Them.

  
Suspended by silks and by faith, eyes closed to the world and mind open to Belgard's voice and power, she would tell Her stories. Hours could be spent, upheld by Her power and gentleness, just Signet's voice echoing through the cockpit, and Belgard's voice echoing through Signet.

  
Her power was such an unimaginable thing. Now that she truly lived, even more so. And Her love was all-encompassing, surrounding, suffocating--until you learned how to breathe in it. Signet had spent many years learning to live in that love. A love that by Her very nature could not be held by one person, Excerpt or otherwise, but a love that held dear not All, but Each. A love that saw the individual, and loved them individually.

  
And Signet was beloved.

  
And while all knew Belgard's loving gaze, Signet knew Her embrace. While all were protected, Signet was treasured. While all were welcome to worship Her glory, Signet worshiped Her fear, Her failures, Her doubt, and was cherished in turn for these.

  
Belgard's loving gaze saw all, saw _each_ , but Her loving voice was known to _one_.

  
And as Signet descended, preparing to leave for a night on the World Without End, she could feel that voice from the crown of her head, to the delicate ends of her fingertips. Be Safe, the voice said, and for a moment Signet forgot the years-honed skill of breathing in that love--but for only a moment.

  
"I will return soon."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I stretched the theme to the point where it really doesn't apply anymore but I did warn y'all about finagling for femslash.


	4. Day Four: Vacation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hella Varal / Adaire Ducarte  
> (Some nudity)

Hella gave the air an experimental sniff as Adaire carefully arranged her skirt to kneel and check the temperature of the water. Adaire _had_ promised her this spring wasn't so sulfurous, but she supposed smelling like rotten eggs for three days was an experience most people would take extra care in not repeating. Adaire dipped one finger into the water, and for the briefest moment it felt scalding--like she had leapt from a snow bank into a cooking pot--but soon her hand adjusted to the sudden change, and she swirled her fingers around a few times in the steaming spring.

  
_Clink. Clink. Rustle._

  
A few leaves fell into the spring in front of her, swaying with the tiny waves her hand created. Adaire retrieved her hand from the water, satisfied that it was a comfortable temperature.

  
_Rustle. Rustle. Thunk._

  
Adaire looked up, mouth open to inform Hella that the water was fine. And her mouth remained open, but no words came out. Hella fiddled with her belt; her armor, boots, and shirt thrown in a pile at her side. Stark warm brown against the snow she stood, barechested to the world. Adaire pulled her gaze up with a great effort to find Hella already looking at her, one crimson eyebrow quirked.

  
"Hella!" Adaire hissed, focusing on Hella's dark eyes, and not the scar that ran from her upper lip down her chin, pointing down to another scar angling from the meeting of her neck and left shoulder down her collar bone, down further still to the swell of her--Adaire focused on Hella's dark eyes again.

  
"No one else is here, what are you worried about?" Hella said, slipping her belt from its loops and tossing it on top of her growing pile of clothing, where it landed with clank.

  
"I'm here!"

  
"You've seen my tits before."

  
"That was-- I was tending your wounds."

  
"We're about to _both_ be naked in the water, anyway," Hella said, and her cool gaze raked over Adaire's very clothed body, "or I thought that was the idea, anyway. You getting in or what?"

  
And she pulled one leg out of her trousers. Adaire didn't watch to see what, if anything, Hella wore underneath them, instead focusing on unfastening the faux-pearl buttons on her blouse with shaky fingers. Hella had a point--Adaire _had_ brought her out here to bathe, after all, but she had somehow assumed she would only be glimpsing Hella's naked shoulders and collarbone, not Hella's naked, well, everything. Adaire folded her blouse neatly, setting it on a dry rock, and twisted her skirt around her middle to better reach the fastenings. It occured to her that she had yet to hear the sound of a body dipping into the water.

  
"You can go ahead," she said, taking her time in rolling down her socks and definitely not looking to see if Hella was looking, "no need to wait for me."

Hella didn't say anything in return, but the slight splash of displaced water against the rocks was enough to put Adaire slightly more at ease. (The sighing noise didn't particularly help, though.) Finally down to her slip, she risked a glance at the hot spring.

  
Hella had stretched her arms out across the rocks, her head was leaned back, her eyes closed, and her breasts definitely still visible over the waterline. Adair's cheeks went hot, and she shook her head a few times to get her bearings. Even with the heat of the spring radiating out into the winter air, Adaire was starting to shiver in her slip, so with a deep breath and a firm grip she pulled it up over her head--glanced to see if Hella was watching (she wasn't)--and folded it with the rest of her clothes. The warm water called to her goosebumped skin, and she slid into it with a grateful sigh.

  
Hella opened one eye, lip curling. "Took you long enough."

  
"I don't want _my_ clothes to be a soggy mess when we head back," Adaire replied, sinking deeper into the water and keeping her eyes at horizon level.

  
For a while, there was nothing but the sound of water lapping at the edges of the spring, and the occasional comfortable sigh of one of the bathers. Adaire's eyes studiously followed a yellow leaf as it drifted, a tiny boat on a leisurely journey. Then, like a knife through the cold air:

  
"I don't know if you're doing this for my benefit, or what, but you can look at me you know. I seriously don't care."

  
Adaire's eyes snapped to Hella on instinct. Hella stared her down from the other end of the spring, blinking slowly, body relaxed.

  
"Excuse me?" Adaire cursed her voice for shaking.

  
"You're the only one making a big deal out of this," Hella said, gesturing at her bare chest. Adaire's eyes followed the motion of her hand for just a moment before she resolutely fixed her gaze on Hella's face again. "It's not like you haven't seen them before, anyway."

  
Adaire gaped.

  
"Why are you so--what does it matter if I don't look? It's starting to sound like you want me to!"

  
Hella shrugged.

  
And smirked.

  
Adaire splashed her.

  
"Hey!"

  
"You are infuriating," Adaire said, crossing her arms and leaning back against the rock again. Hella smirked in response, and ducked down into the water until it was at chin level, moving toward Adaire with unneccessary swimming strokes. Adaire squealed and made for another end of the spring, and Hella followed behind with a cackle, sending waves of hot water splashing after Adaire.

  
"This is so immature!"

  
"You started it!"

  
"Well you- Hrrmphhlbbll!" Adaire gasped as she came back up, what hairs had escaped her braid plastered to her face and hot water travelling in rivers from the crown of her head down to her chin. "Hella!"

  
She spun around, and there Hella stood: hands on her hips, chest puffed out, water just barely coming up to her belly button, and sporting the biggest, dumbest grin. Adaire barely restrained herself from childishly covering her eyes with her hands.

  
"How," she said, "are you so calm about--" She gestured weakly at Hella's exposed body. Hella shrugged.

  
"I don't get why you're so worked up about it." She said, voice casual and even. "Like I said, you've seen 'em before. You've touched 'em before."

  
"That was . . . medical."

  
"And? They're still the same boobs."

  
"You are impossible."

  
"Yeah, yeah, impossible, infuriating, I've heard it." Hella smirked. "You're still looking."

  
Adaire splashed her again. Hella caught her arm with a light grip. Adaire huffed.

  
"You're such a show off. Fine! Yes! You have a great body, I get it!"

  
"That's not it, Adaire."

  
If it was the cold air on her shoulders or her name on Hella's tongue that made Adaire shudder, she couldn't quite pinpoint.

  
"You had it right," Hella said, hand running down Adaire's arm until she only loosely gripped her fingers, "what you said before."

  
Dark eyes bore down into Adaire's, and she swallowed.

  
"Before?"

  
Hella blinked slowly, lashes brushing against the scar that ran down her right cheek. The deep alto rumble of her voice reverberated through the water, into Adaire, as she pulled Adaire's hand closer, guiding it to rest on her bare hip. Adaire gasped despite herself.

  
"I want you to look."

 

* * *

 

  
"Jeeze, you two really took your time!" Throndir groused as Adaire and Hella came into view. "We wanna take a bath before it gets dark, too."

  
"Wash fast." Hella said, not a hint of remorse on her face.

  
Throndir pouted and Kodiak whuffed. Throndir looked to Adaire instead, and tilted his head to one side.

  
"Hey, Adaire? You might wanna fix your braid, it's coming loose in the back."

  
Adaire flushed, Hella chuckled, and Throndir stood to let Hadrian know the spring was free.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was spicier than I expected any of these to get so. Up goes the rating. I'm not planning anything spicier than this, but who knows what'll happen with the other prompts.


End file.
